Confined
by Suma Akila
Summary: For as long as Harry could remember, he'd always been the strange one. The odd one. The disturbing one. No one really knew just how true all of those things were. No one except, maybe, both he and himself. Pity they condemned him to a life of pain and hatred. Perhaps if they hadn't then fate wouldn't have been so drastically changed. (Slash. HPTR?)
1. Chapter 1

**Long time no see. This is to try and help myself out of this years and years long writers block. I am sure my writing style has changed drastically, as it happens with years and years between writing stints, but I hope it is still pleasing to most.**

 **This will be Slash. Pairing is still being decided. If you don't know what that means, please google it. If you aren't into that sort of thing, it wont be until much later in the story and if that still isn't good enough then by all means don't bother to read anything more of this.**

 **I have no scheduled updated times. It will come and go I am sure but reviews help me to stoke my whimsical muse into work, so they are much appreciated. I love advice and ideas on where to take the story and whatnot.**

 **Until next time.**

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For as long as Harry could remember, he'd always been the _strange one_. The _odd one_. The _disturbing one_.

He could remember back when he lived in an actual house with an actual family, though family could be stretching the imagination as a description. He could remember the cramped little cupboard he called a room with a semi broken uncomfortable cot, a threadbare blanket that was only good at keeping him warm in the late spring and he could remember the darkness once the door banged shut behind him, locking him in. He could remember being called a freak. He could remember feeling hunger and thirst for days.

But most of all he could remember the pain. He could recall from the very first moment he was knocked back into the wall by a large meaty fist to the very last time when he was knocked unconscious by a warm frying pan to his left temple only to wake up in the hospital with the doctors telling him that a 'kind citizen' had found him bleeding and freezing in an alley way somewhere he knew was no where near that little pristine house that he had been living in. He knew, without having to ask, that he would never be going back there. The doctor later told him in a cautiously sad tone that they did not know where he came from and he had no inclination at all to tell them, nor had he divulged anything more than his first name as he claimed he could not remember his last name or anything else for that matter.

It was a rather convincing lie to go with convincing wounds. When he finally had the strength to make his way to the little bathroom in his hospital room, he had stood in front of the mirror for an extended period of time assessing his injuries.

He was only six at the time, but he was not ignorant. The large black and purple bruise that extended across his face, arching over his left cheek and down over his aching jaw was semi covered by a stark white bandage that not only covered his partially shaved head, but also his left eye. The doctor had not been clear as to what was going on underneath the bandage but the way that he could not fully look Harry in the eyes as he had explained that there was 'extensive damage' told Harry a lot more than the doctor probably realized.

It took two long weeks for the hospital to finally discharge him… straight into the waiting arms of a scowling wisp of a woman dressed in a drab grey cotton dress that had a high stiff collar and reached to her ankles, her feet closed up in plain grey and white slip ons that had made Harry question if they kept her feet warm at all. She had silently placed him on a bus that eventually let them off in front of a long but squat building that was surrounded by iron bar fencing with the only seeming entrance being a rusted and squeaky gate that slammed shut and was locked behind him.

From then it had been a cut and dry introduction of "I am Ms. Trendt, this is the Bulberry Orphanage, your room is here, dinner is at 6pm sharp and if you're even a minute late you will go without food for the night."

She had been unnerved by his presence, he could tell. Her eyes never locked with the single one of his that peered up at her silently, and once she had finished by handing him a daily schedule she quickly retreated down the silent hallway to disappear through one of the many numerous doors that lined the way.

Harry had noiselessly peered around the room consisting of four beds in total, all made up in scratchy grey blankets folded almost military style, pillows tucked beneath grey towels all folded the same exact way, with a wardrobe sitting between each bed. The one that was not made but had everything folded and placed at the foot of the bed was his, he knew, and he ambled towards it to sit upon the stiff mattress where he had stayed for the remainder of the day until the hands on the clock above the door became perilously close to announcing his tardiness to dinner.

That first week at the orphanage had been rough. The other children who shared his room steered clear of him, eyeballing the dwindling bandaging around his face and avoiding him altogether if possible. Some of the older orphans had taken to seeing how far they could push him around without him lashing back and they had picked up pretty quickly that the frightfully skinny boy had absolutely no fight in him at all and took advantage of it by shoving him into walls, into corners, through doorways, and occasionally tripping him so he would topple soundlessly to the ground.

Harry never once struck back. In fact, his silence seemed to both encourage and unnerve the ones that decided he was there new punching bag, and the monthly bullying quickly became weekly, then daily, then more than once per day. All the while Harry stayed eerily quiet. In fact, Harry stayed mute. He would nod or shake his head to answer questions, would turn in the work that the teacher for the orphanage would assign, and would do his daily chores with nothing but a single green eye watching his surroundings stoically.

Eventually he was taken back to the hospital to get a full final checkup, and he remembered that as well. He remembered very clearly how the bandages had been unwound from his head, the gauze that had been taped over his left eye carefully being removed, and how the dimmed lights had made his revealed eye ache in protest.

Most of all from that he remembered the way the nurse had recoiled from him and how the doctor's eyes left his face once more. He remembered the way the matron of the orphanage had paled and taken a large step backwards and away from him as her hand reached up to clasp around the ever present cross hanging around her neck. He remembered the muffled quick paced conversation between the matron and the doctor outside of the room. He remembered the way she had moved back into the room and the way the nurse had come back in to place a black eyepatch around his head and the way his vision went dark in that eye again.

And he remembered standing in the bathroom at the orphanage at the end of the day, dinner having been forgotten and skipped as he stared into his reflection, the eyepatch laying despondent in the sink beneath his hands.

' _Well, hello there,'_ a voice had whispered in the back of his head in a strangely sibilant way as he stared into his own eyes, the right one a bright and uncanny shade of green that he had never seen on anyone else. The voice continued on in his mind and Harry hadn't even thought it strange when it whispered, _'It's so good to finally see you.'_

His left eye had been glittering. That's the only word that he had been able to put to the way it seemed to light up…. and when Harry had laid down that night to try and sleep, the ruby red color of his left eye had followed him into his dreams.

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 **Unbeta'd and unashamed. Feel free to point out any grammatical errors so I know to fix them in the future. If you're interested in being a Beta, feel free to approach me. Having someone constantly hounding me for the next chapter might actually work in the favor of this story.**

 **Hope you all have a fantastic day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Of course I must send out a heartfelt thank you to this new story's first reviewer, xXxblacklilyxXx. I am glad that you are already hooked on this piece of work and I hope to further entertain you with my writing. As I am unsure exactly where this story is leading, my only hope is that in the end you find yourself in love with it. Thank you very much again, and I will dedicate this next chapter to you and your kindness. Please enjoy.**

 **On another note I realized that I forgot to write a disclaimer. So here it is. I do not own Harry Potter or any recognizable characters from the novels or movies. If I did own them, the stories would have gone much more differently. That is all. I do, however, own everything original in here and ask for those reading to respect that and not to filch anything without asking me first. Thank you.**

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When the orphanage had arranged for the children to go on a field trip to the local zoo, Harry had been less than motivated. He would have preferred to stay back in the empty building away from everyone else, perhaps curled up in the meagerly stocked library with a ratty book as company. Since none of the workers at the orphanage were staying back it was only logical that neither could he.

The only thing he had been thankful for was the fact that once inside the zoo he was allowed to wander off by himself, provided that he didn't leave the facility. That had suited him just fine. He had stuffed his hands as deep as he could into the pockets of the grey trousers he wore and ignored the way that his white button up shirt came semi-untucked at the action.

As he had wandered aimlessly around he took note of the way the other orphans would stop to oooooh and aaaaaah at the various creatures in their enclosures. The prowling tigers seemed to be the most popular animal for them and so he had made a point to steer clear of the large animals which inevitably lead him to the less popular indoor enclosures that housed the smaller inhabitants.

Harry remembered that day vividly as well.

The overly large but nonetheless beautiful Boa that captured his attention had been lounging across branches of a fake tree, its chin rested on the furthest jutting piece of wood so that bright yellow eyes could stare out of the glass that kept in caged in. Harry had stepped right up to the glass, his breath fogging it up as let out a heavy exhale, his right hand reaching up to press fingers in front of the snake's face. The snake's pupils had seem to thin out as it slowly lifted it's head up to stare first at his fingers and then that large triangular head had pivoted to stare at his face.

Harry remembered because the snake had reacted strangely when he had uttered words for the first time in two years, "You're as confined as I am."

It had tilted its head before its body had flowed like a stream of water off of the branch, it's heaviness obvious by the muffled thunk as it did so, and it slithered right up to the glass where it slinked up into a rear, it's body contorting into a fascinating 'S' shape with its head ducked before his own. The Boa had pressed the top of its head right up against the glass, body swaying strangely, and Harry had had the sudden and unexplainable urge to remove the eyepatch that still hid his left eye from view. He had done so, slowly, the snake's eyes seeming to follow his movements. As soon as he dropped his hand that held the eyepatch to his side the snake had allowed its tongue to flick out once, twice, and then a third time before whispered words crooned in the back of his mind, 'Gorgeous, isn't she?' Harry had faintly realized he was nodding just before he found himself on the receiving end of a particularly vicious shove which landed him painfully on his back end, his hands marked with scuffs from the stone floor.

Above him had stood Scottie Lorell, the sandy haired ten year old who had decided that Harry was his to torment. Scotty hadn't been looking at him, though; he was excitedly plastered against the glass of the large snake enclosure right in front of the Boa, his muddy brown eyes alight with fascination. "Look at that monster!" He had exclaimed loudly to try and gain more attention to the snake and to himself as he was wont to do on a normal basis. He tapped at the glass right in between the snake's eyes and the Boa had reared back and away from the boy and Harry could hear the spitting and hissing even as long fangs extended with a mouth wide open which only seemed to make Scottie even more excited.

And Harry remembered with clarity a sudden rage rising up within him as his eyes narrowed to focus on the fingers tapping at the glass. He could remember the thoughts that Scottie wasn't worthy to look at the boa, let alone call it a monster. The voice in the back of his head agreed viciously and almost sounded as if it was hissing and spitting as well. Harry's focus had narrowed down to the space of glass between Scottie's body and the snake and then, quite suddenly, the glass had just….. disappeared.

There had been a comical moment where Scottie had floundered as he lost his balance, arms flailing to the sides and his eyes going impossibly wide, and Harry knew he hadn't imagined a distinctly feminine voice gleefully exclaiming thanks before the large Boa had lunged right at Scottie to sink her fangs (because Harry had been suddenly quite sure that she had been the one to thank him for the disappearing glass) into his neck, straight through his jugular.

Harry remembered because blood had splattered down on his face, on his arms, on the floor and everything else around them as the female Boa had ripped her head backwards to leave a relatively small yet deadly gaping wound that spurted blood even as little Scottie had tried to futilely grasp at it to stop the bleeding.

The female Boa had turned to him, then, leaning towards him to flick her tongue against the strange lightning bolt scar on his forehead that Harry had had for as long as he could remember and he had no fear of her as she did so. 'See? So beautiful,' that voice whispered in the back of his mind as the snake leaned back again with hot blood still seeping from her mouth and down her scales. Harry had reached out, slender fingers running down the side of her head and through the blood as they both ignored the gurgling and gasping boy lying merely a foot away from them, and the female Boa had hissed out another "Thank you" before turning to slither away, disappearing around a corner that led to the exit of the reptile house.

When the matron found Harry and Scottie thirty minutes later the glass of the reptile house had reappeared, but seemingly shattered around the floor where Harry still sat, eyepatch having been wrapped back around his head to hide his red left eye, staring off into the distance as if in shock.

But Harry had not been in any sort of emotion shock or turmoil. Even as police men and medical workers and others filed in one after another to question him (in which he never uttered a word,) he had not felt an ounce of terror or sadness. And as they had finally left the zoo with Harry's white shirt stained with dried blood from Scottie's lifeless body the only thought that Harry could remember having was if everyone bled so profusely from their neck, and if he would be able to see the beautiful Boa ever again.

The whispered voice in the back of his head had murmured to him that perhaps some day they should test it out, and he hoped that the snake found her way to them again.

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T **a Ta for now. Hope it was acceptable, if even a bit vague. No worries, the "remembering" phase wont last the whole story. I find myself struggling a bit to write this new way but it is an exciting challenge.**


	3. Chapter 3

**As always, I don't own Harry Potter… sadly.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to Corvus2 for being my second reviewer, and to AnoraMakani for making me laugh! :)**

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 _'Magic is…..'_ Harry remembered the voice sighing in reverence in the back of his mind one day while he had been tending to the weeds surrounding the orphanage, _'like the first warm sunshine after a bitter and long winter.'_

Harry had yanked at a particularly stubborn weed as he contemplated what the voice might had meant by that, but he had a pretty good idea. He remembered sitting back on his heels and wiping his forearm across his disgustingly sweaty forehead. The matron had kept him on weed and yard duty for the past two years, the death of little Scottie having spooked the rest of the children and had hauled them to loudly protest any interaction with Harry other than what was necessary- like in the dining hall or in classes. Even then, he had been relegated to tables tucked in corners and desks against the back walls. The matron had even gone so far as to have him moved into the small attic where he had to climb a drop down ladder to get into and which was locked behind him upon entry every night and only unlocked at the very last minute so that he could make it to breakfast.

Harry hadn't minded. It allowed him the privacy and solitude that he craved and most of all it had allowed him to communicate more with the whispered voice in his head without having to worry about watching his surroundings.

 _"But how do I control it?"_ He had asked within his mind, his eyes blinking to clear the sweat that had rolled into them even as he stood to stretch his aching body as much as he possibly could. There was a stretch of silence in his mind as his thoughts went momentarily blank and he remembered taking the time to gather up the pulled weeds into a trash bag before hauling it over to the locked gate and struggling before finally tipping it over the little iron gate to the sidewalk on the other side where the garbage men would eventually cart it off.

 _'It should be as easy as breathing…'_ was whispered into his head and he had cocked his head to the side, chin tilted slightly upward as he pondered this. Easy as breathing? To lock that thought into his mind he took a huge breath in through his nose until his expanded chest had burned and then had let it out slowly through clenched teeth.

 _'Go back over to the leftover weeds.'_ And Harry had done so without questioning, his limp and sweaty black bangs falling down over his eyes as he looked downwards in mild irritation at the reminder of the remaining work. _'Now…. simply... wish them gone.'_

 _"Wish them gone?"_ He had been incredulous. You couldn't just wish something to disappear. He wasn't a genius but he was pretty sure that his teacher at the orphanage would also disagree with the possibility.

There had been a sound of disgust in his mind followed but a hissed _'Of course_ filthy muggles _would think it impossible. You are_ not _a muggle. You are a wizard. Now, do as I say and_ wish them away!'

Harry had physically winced as the voice finished it's sentence ridiculously loudly and he had rolled his shoulders and rolled his head around before crouching down before the offending weed, his hands resting over his knees and mismatched eyes narrowed on them.

After about fifteen minutes of staying in the same position he remembered getting frustrated and then upset and then, suddenly, unexplainable angry.

Why was _HE_ the one that had to suffer out here in the heat and the unbearable sunshine to pull weeds out of the ground? Why was _HE_ the one that had to be punished for something that wasn't even truly his fault? Why was _HE_ the one shoved into the hot in the summer and cold in the winter attic because the other children were such cowards?

With the wave of anger came a wave of something else that felt as if it started in the very center of his stomach to rush up in a violent crash against his rib cage where it had branched out into his arms and down to his burning fingertips where there was a brief moment that he was afraid might burn his fingers right off…..

And then the weeds had been gone.

They had disappeared right in front of his eyes with nothing more than the softest 'pop' to signal anything phenomenal had happened at all.

He had blinked rapidly and his spine had straightened as his eyes widened.

When the sighing voice had purred _'absolutely extraordinary, well done'_ he had allowed his lips to curl in a smirk of satisfaction.

If anyone had been there to witness it, they would have felt a stab of unexplainable fear at the sight of his glowing eyes and the way that the smirk twisted his face into something quite disturbing to behold.

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 **Reviews make me inexplicably happy. A happy me means quicker updates. So love me. Or love my muse really. Either way is fine with me. Kthanx.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to the new reviewer, closetohappiness, for reading and taking time of your busy day to let me know that you enjoy my story. And, as always, thank you to blacklily, anora, and corvus for reviewing as well. I can't believe there is already such a good following of this story as well- thank you to those readers who may not be reviewing but still spur me into writing more by putting my story on your follow list, and some even favorites list. My deepest gratitude.**

 **With that, on with the show.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter, sadly. What a tragedy.**

 **WITCHLIPS- everyone send thanks to her. She is the one that pushed me to finish this chapter tonight.**

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Mostly though, Harry would absolutely never forget that one particular day in the summer months where he was laid out under the shade of a particularly tall tree…. the only real tree that hadn't been half dead anyways.

The clouds had been lazily moving across the bright blue sky and he and the whispering voice in his mind had been throwing magical theory back and forth for hours after he had questioned quite innocently if there was no way that he could just wish food into existence. The hissing that had filled his mind had been both amused and contemplative. He had been told that perhaps it would be possible, but that they would just have to find a way to actually make it so.

He had been so absorbed with the heated back and forth debate that it took a beat longer than normal for him to register something new happening in his surroundings. That in and of itself had been strange considering that none of the other children at the orphanage dared to disturb him when he was outside under HIS tree since a few months ago when Hailey Dredgeton had kicked his leg and demanded he get out of her way so that she could enjoy the shade of the tree. He had sat up slowly to level a mild glare at her even as she had huffed in impatience and had placed her little curled up fists on her hips in that haughty 'I'm better than you' way that never failed to make him very angry.

He hadn't said anything to her, though, and simply moved away silently as the other children watched from a distance warily huddled in a group. They had darted their eyes from his face to hers multiple times before finally inching over to the tree to share the shade with Hailey.

Harry had settled down smugly with his back against the iron bars of the fence surrounding the orphanage far enough away that the children could neither hear nor really see what he was doing. Soon they had even stopped paying attention to him altogether as the new girl to the orphanage stole their attention with her high bell like laugh, bright sparkling blue eyes, and cinnamon colored curls that fell around her slender shoulders down to her lower back.

 _'It's a shame…'_ the voice had sighed in his mind and he nodded in agreement as he murmured allowed, _"What a waste…."_

And then he had let his lips creep into that small little secretive smile as the fingers of his right hand caressed the grass where he sat, eventually finding smooth cool green scales without he even having to look. The body of the snake was perhaps the same width of his pointer finger and he had known without looking that it blended seamlessly into the yellow green grass. He had let his fingers dance up to rub over it's spear shaped head and his eyes fell half mast as he continued to stare at Hailey, the feeling of the serpents tongue tickling his hand lulling him into a sense of peace.

"What a pity," he said as he gave a quick glance to the little snake under his hand, admiring it's striking red eyes and red streaks through it's tail for just a moment before he tapped it lightly on the nose and very faintly motioned towards Hailey with his chin. _"What a pity that you have to dirty your fangs on a muggle."_

The snake had hissed her agreement in her soft way before slinking off stealthily in the grass.

Needless to say the children never bothered him or his tree again. Not after poor little Hailey Dredgeton had been bitten on the ankle by a highly venomous snake and died on the way to the hospital.

The orphanage had called out a specialist to try and capture and kill the snake that had bitten Hailey but it had not been found and the Matron of the orphanage had been flustered and nervous and had eyeballed Harry strangely for days after the incident.

So Harry remembered being caught only slightly off guard because of the knowledge that no one ever bothered him while he was under his tree and the almighty screeching of the iron gate opening and clanking shut had startled him enough that he had jerked out of his thoughts violently even though he hadn't shown it outwardly. His green eye had opened lazily just enough so that he could see the strange tall man dressed in all black turning to gaze at the orphanage building, hooked nose crinkled in disgust and eyes narrowed in an expression of loathing. It had been hard for him to make out everything since he had his left eye hidden behind the eye patch but he had not wanted to bring any attention to himself and so had made due with what he could see.

Shoulder length lank black hair had slipped forward to frame a sallow face wrinkled in…. regret? Anger? Harry hadn't been able to really tell, but it hadn't mattered because the man had stalked towards the door with all the grace of a lumbering rabid dog, shoulders stiff and gait awkward. Harry had watched him disappear through the door with only mild curiosity that was tempered only by the strange cackling hiss in the back of his mind that kept him somewhat distracted.

 _'Severus….'_ the whisper had offered amusedly and he had felt inclined enough to acknowledge the seeming familiarity to sit up in interest as he crossed his legs indian style, hands dropping to rest on his thighs.

Harry remembered musing on this name only briefly… after all, the Matron had stormed back out into the yard and towards him and the Severus man had followed here with a sour look twisted on his face. The matron hadn't looked at him as she had spat "Here he is," and Harry had been left with the strange man standing before him in silence.

There had been a strange tension in the air as fathomless black eyes had met his single green one and Harry would swear that he had seen a strong longing before those black eyes had adapted a look of absolute derision that Harry was used to receiving from every other adult in his life. "I have been told that _YOU_ are Harry….. Potter?" The words had been sneered out at him as the grown man had crossed his arms over his chest in an oddly defensive type maneuver that made Harry want to smile, for whatever reason.

Harry had considered his answer quite carefully with his whispering mind adding and taking away ideas. Harry hadn't wanted to potentially scare this stranger away before he could find out why he had come; though the snickering in the back of his mind had told him that perhaps he should have already known the answer. So, with very little fanfare and an unfamiliar desire to stand up before the man he had simply ducked his chin in acknowledgement. It had been far too long since he had last heard his full name.

The mans lip had curled in disgust even though Harry couldn't have guessed as to why and he had ignored the way the urge to sick a snake on the man rose up within him, and the voice in the back of his mind placatingly told him that wishing something to befall the man in harm would do no good for his future.

He remembered the day because the man, Professor Severus Snape, had handed him a thick envelope before he had explained that Harry was a Wizard. He explained when and where he needed to collect his supplies for school and had handed him a golden ticket designed to help him board the train at the platform nine and three quarters.

Harry had only been half listening because as the man had snakily proclaimed that he had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the picture of a large stone castle had hazily risen into his consciousness as the hissing voice chuckled darkly in the back of his mind.

And when Severus Snape, Potions Master and Professor of Hogwarts finally left Harry at that little rag tag orphanage one hot summer day, it was to a very languid Harry Potter lounging underneath his tree once more, eyes closed and hands tucked underneath his head.

 _'They are not ready for you,'_ that voice whisper-cackled in the back of his mind as he stretched his legs out as much as he could.

 _"I know,"_ he had replied silently, his teeth catching his lower lip in excited anticipation.

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 **Review because I literally live on them.**

 **Also in case you are wondering, my music muse for this story is Dance Without You by Skylar Grey. Listen to it. Maybe you will get the feel of Harry more.**


	5. Chapter 5

**As always, I do not own Harry Potter. Unfortunately. If I did, there would be much more blood and carnage, a very sexy Severus Snape, and Harry would have turned out much more realistically damaged after years of severe neglect and pain.**

 **blacklily- This one is for you, since you asked so nicely. :)**

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Severus Snape prided himself on his composure and his ability to come out of most encounters unaffected and unsurprised. He was always a the picture of a stoic man that was phased by very little.

He didn't knock or announce his presence in any way before he swept into the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts simply because his mind was focused on the memory of a wisp of a boy peering up at him from beneath dark lashes, a strikingly unnerving green eye sending echoes of recognition through his very soul.

"Ah, Severus, my boy," the Headmaster greeted jovially as he moved to settle in the seat before the large oak desk cluttered with parchment and various trinkets that hid the surface of the desk from view. Severus curled his nose in distaste but did not throw the scathing response that he wanted to at the older man. He hated being called that terrible nickname. He was neither a boy, nor was he Dumbledore's boy.

"Headmaster," he drawled out instead as he crossed his arms over his chest, his black eyes locked with deep and kind blue. There was a stretch of momentary silence before Dumbledore sat back in his own chair, threading his fingers together and resting his clasped fists under his chin which was hidden behind a long grey beard.

"Well?" The Headmaster asked after a while longer, his thick grey brows slanting in a frown over his forehead. "How was he?" The question was uttered innocently enough but Severus could hear the slight tinge of wariness behind the man's words.

Severus took a while to consider his words mostly because he couldn't find the way to adequately describe the encounter himself. He found himself retracting back into his mind to view the whole meeting over again before taking a deep breath and furrowing his own brows.

"He was….. oddly silent." Yes, that was as good as a place to start as any, because it was a simple statement of truth that did not have anything to do with how the boy had made him feel. Dumbledore seemed to contemplate this for a moment before Severus continued on. "The Matron," and here he hesitated for a reason he was not quite sure of before finally spitting out, "seemed abnormally nervous in his presence." There. That was enough wasn't it?

Unfortunately for Severus, Dumbledore had always been the curious of sorts and Severus watched as his lips thinned out in a grim line. "And how did _you_ feel around him, Severus?" The words were heavy with some sort of expectation that Severus had no intention of exploring further.

"His demeanor was… unsettling, in a way. I am unsure as to how long he has been at the Orphanage because the Matron diligently ignored most of my questions regarding him, but I do know that it must have been quite a while. The Matron did say that he had never spoken a word since he had arrived and the workers at the Orphanage all believed him to either be medically mute or ….. lacking in the ability to understand how to talk. A mental disorder, she said. I was also able to observe him a bit…. he did not seem to have any friends at all within the Orphanage and dare I say the other children seemed…" And here Severus hesitated. What he wanted to say was pure stipulation, but the looks in the other children's eyes as he had approached the Matron and requested to speak with a child named Harry had been nothing short of terror. With a deep sigh he averted his eyes from the bright blue ones boring into his own and released the words on a grunt, "abnormally scared of the mere mention of his name."

Dumbledore made a distantly disturbed noise in the back of his throat before shuffling parchment around on his desk to find the little dish that held his precious lemon drops. He wordlessly offered one to Severus but he refused with a jerky shake of his head. He knew the Headmster had them laced with a mild calming draught and he preferred to have a clear, sharp mind over a muddled one.

They both sat in contemplative silence for longer than perhaps socially acceptable before Dumbledore crunched down on the lemon drop and leaned forwards, his forearms moving to rest on the desk before him. "That is….. unfortunate to hear. Did he say anything at all to you while you were explaining Hogwarts and Magic?"

With this question Severus could not hold back the slight twitch his entire body made. Dumbledore picked up on it as well if the way his eyes narrowed was any indication. Severus answered him, of course, though his voice was even quieter and more hesitant than when he started.

"He did not say anything to me at all. He nodded and shook his head when asked direct yes or no questions and said nothing at all if it required him to form an actual sentence. Albus….." Severus paused in hesitation and the use of the Headmaster's first name made the older wizard sit up straight, his face suddenly taking on an expression quite grave. "There's something distinctly …. odd about his magic. I could feel it.. it was almost simmering just beneath his skin like he could unleash it at any moment. I think….. I think he's been _using_ it on the other children at the orphanage."

Severus hated admitting it. He hated the way that the Headmaster's eyes darkened and the way the old man's body seemed to slowly go completely rigid. Most of all he hated knowing that he was probably right and that Lily's child was capable of doing such a thing to begin with.

"Are you certain, Severus?"

Severus allowed himself another brief nod before standing up and moving towards the door. He knew that there was nothing more the Headmaster really wanted to know but he paused after opening the door anyways.

"Albus," he started again, his head turning ever so slightly to gaze out of the corner of his eyes at Dumbledore, taking in the way the old man seemed even older, his shoulders hunched and his sad countenance clashing ironically with the yellow stars twinkling merrily on his abhorrent purple robes.

"Yes?" Dumbledore rose his eyes to glance at him once more, a sort of cautious acceptance glittering in those blue eyes.

"He wears an eyepatch over his left eye. When I asked the Matron about it before I departed, I could tell she lied when she told me that he was completely blind in the eye and it was mangled beyond repair and scared the other children which is why he is required to wear the eyepatch. Whatever the truth is, I doubt it is any better than what she said."

He left the Headmaster to stew on that as he headed back towards the potions lab in the dungeons where he could escape the feeling that he had somehow failed in his promise to his precious Lily to protect her son, if only for a while.

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 **Thanks for all of the reviews once more. I am glad everyone seems to like it. As you can tell we are out of the memory stage… I hope everyone is excited and ready to experience my Harry Potter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**BIG thank you to my ever loyal blackly, witchlips, and anoramakani for taking time out of your busy lives to encourage me to update!**

 **Absolutely happy to have you, athenaskid125, and I hope to continue to enthrall you with this story!**

 **As always I do not own Harry Potter, which is a pity, since he would have at least found a way to save Severus Snape or had ended up in a rather lovely and sordid relationship with Draco Malfoy.**

 **That is all.**

 **Please Enjoy!**

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Albus Dumbledore had quite a lot to atone for in this life he led, he knew. He waited until Severus disappeared behind the snapping door before he allowed his face to fall into hiding behind his palms. He felt the tide of desperation and despair rising within him like a vindictive hurricane threatening to overtake and destroy him but he tamped it back with an even more vicious determination.

Yes, Albus had quite a lot to atone for in this life, but it wasn't quite the time for him to give into his punishment.

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Harry stared up at the old man, 'Ollivander is my name,' with the silence that he bestowed upon everyone else he deemed unworthy. The reason of his silence was not because he actually believed that the milky eyed strange man was unworthy, but more because of the wand Harry gripped within his right hand and the way the man had explained why it was oh so _curious_ that the wand chose him.

Harry never had believed in fate, in destiny, in anything of the sort. For him to hear that he had the brother wand of the man who had killed his birth parents and left him as an orphan had nothing to do with it, really.

The curious thing about the whole interaction was how the whispering in the back of his mind had rose in a violent crescendo, spitting and snarling that it was not true and that it could not be true and that the whole situation was incredibly laughable.

That was the first time Harry truly began to question the voice murmuring to him in the back of his mind.

The Hogwarts Express was like nothing Harry had ever seen before. With his trunk on a trolley before him and his great snowy white owl hooting at him in disdain he couldn't decide whether to stand and gape at the big red steam train or act as if he saw such magnificence every day.

Eventually the latter won out and he steeled his features into that of disinterest before semi struggling with the weight of his trunk towards an entrance beckoning to him and just as he made it there, attempting to hide the way his breath came out in deep and labored pants due to his malnutrition, a long pale fingered hand reached out and clasped over his shoulder and halted him before he could take his next step.

There was a moment where he considered wishing the hand into flame until he took a deep breath to center the wall of anger within him, snuffing it down beneath the desire to portray himself as harmless. His single green eye turned to lock onto the tall man standing regally beside him, noting the way the smooth looking grey robes were tailored to hug his frame snugly and the way his very straight and very long stark blonde hair rested over his rigid shoulders to frame his milky white skin. Intense grey eyes bored into his uncovered green eye with an intensity that Harry was unused to and for a moment he forgot his surroundings…. he forgot he was in a crowded station of bustling wizards and witches, he forgot that he needed to always stay alert and ready to react, and he forgot the voice whispering excitedly in the back of his mind.

The spell or whatever it was that kept him captive broke when the man holding his shoulder blinked and Harry listened as a smooth aristocratic voice poured out between them. "Let me help you with your trunk." There was a no nonsense sort of tenor there that Harry was sure he had never heard before… if was if every word dripped with a sort of lazy confidence that most people only dreamed of having.

Harry merely blinked as a wand was produced from between the folds of those grey robes with the hand that had just a moment ago been solidly clamped down on his shoulder, his trunk and Hedwig disappearing with a silent swish and flick of the long stick of wood. Harry wasn't all that worried, though. The voice hissing in the back of his mind did not seem concerned at all and so Harry made himself relax as well.

"I am Lucius Malfoy and this is my son, Draco." The man motioned off to the side and a bit behind himself and Harry darted his eye to acknowledge the blonde haired Lucius mini-me standing there before he rolled his shoulders and rolled his eye back up to meet the gaze of the older man.

He did not offer any words. No respectful return of a greeting or his name or anything.

Strangely enough the older man only allowed his lips to twitch in what Harry recognized as amusement before he turned and strode towards his son, the same hand that had been on Harry's shoulder mere moments before descending to clasp claw like around Draco's shoulder where it _squeezed_.

Harry noted in mild amusement and curiosity the way Draco flinched at the action before straightening up once more and nodding his head sharply at whatever it was his father had said to him and moved towards Harry, no exchange of good byes or pleasantries between the son and patriarch.

Harry didn't really think it his business nor did he particularly care, so he paid precious little thought to the matter at all. When the son Draco finally reached him and sized him up with steel colored eyes he did not flinch nor did he back down from the gaze and he must have passed some sort of test because as he went to turn towards the train to board he found himself being offered a smooth and pale hand, a childlike version of Lucius' voice haltingly sounding out between them.

"Draco Malfoy…. it is… a pleasure to meet you."

Harry didn't offer his name and it didn't seem to matter to the blond child anyways. Harry hid his satisfied smirk from view until much later when he and Draco were tucked into a compartment all on their own, his hand still tingling with the warmth from shaking Draco's hand with his own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took so long, everyone. As you can probably guess from the long wait, I had an extraordinarily hard time trying to write this chapter so I am sorry if some of it feels forced or stilted. As always, I do not own Harry Potter or any recognizable characters. What a shame.**

 **Love me with reviews. They make my muse happy.**

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Draco Malfoy was like some sort of non-harmful parasite that stuck solidly to Harry's side from the moment they exited the train. The grey eyed boy hadn't tried to speak to him at all and had instead buried his nose into a book on a subject called Transfiguration, which suited Harry just fine, but as soon as they had stepped off of the train it was as if the other boy was afraid to lose him in the crowd for even a second.

This both annoyed and amused Harry since he was so used to the children at the orphanage staying as far away from him as possible and going out of their way to never even be seen in the same room as Harry if they could help it.

It was… nice? He furrowed his brows as they were led to boats that creaked as they floated slowly across a dark and glittering lake towards the large looming castle that Harry had been picturing for days on end in his mind. It was an exact replica, though being able to see the castle clearly instead of as a foggy memory was a novelty.

Yes, Harry decided after an internal debate with himself. Nice was the proper way to define the way Draco clinging to him made him feel overall. As they clamored out of the boats onto the opposite shore he made sure to visibly and noticeable pause to wait for Draco to catch up with him with a small smile on his lips that seemed to startle Draco and make him hesitantly smile back. Ah, it would be almost… too easy.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and unremarkable and Harry only caught snatches of conversations from the other children around him speculating how their houses were chosen. Harry almost wanted to set some of them on fire simply for their stupidity but he reasoned with himself and the laughing voice in the back of his mind that if the other children were too stupid to actually open their book 'Hogwarts: A History,' then they were beneath his notice completely.

When the doors to the Great Hall were opened for them to file through, Harry was momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer amount of children within the cavernous room. He felt a mild panic thrumming through his veins as his green eye darted side to side, noting children of various ages and types and flavors of magic…. it was almost too much and he found himself breathing deeply as they were halted before a slightly raised dais where an old hat sat upon a stool waiting to sort them.

The breathing helped center himself rapidly enough to hear the first child's name called up to be sorted and Harry almost wanted to shudder at the feel of hundreds of eyes roving over all of the new students and he had the urge to press his back against a wall so that he didn't feel so vulnerable with people that he could not see behind and around him.

Draco was soon called from his side and there was a strangely tense moment as if he was reluctant to leave Harry standing alone but another small smile from Harry had the young boy stepping confidently forward, chin held high and eyes looking down his nose. It made Harry want to laugh.

It took a mere second for the hat to sit upon the blonde child's head for the brim to hastily open and yell out "Slytherin!" There seemed to be no real surprise from the professors sitting at the long table behind the hat and Harry gathered pretty quickly that it must be a 'family' type house.

Soon his name was called in a slightly raised voice that made every witch and wizard in the entire room gasp and crane their necks to try and get a look at him. Harry did his best to ignore them even as his skin felt as if it were crawling and that hissing whisper in the back of his mind attempted to sooth his ruffled feathers.

He did not like sitting in front of everyone. He did not like the hat being placed on his head. He certainly did not like the way his vision was obscured when the hat slipped down over his forehead and eyes, essentially blinding him.

"Harry Potter….. and friend. Welcome to Hogwarts…." Harry bit back the urge to jump. He was not enjoying all of the ways he was being thrown out of his comfort zone, it was highly unpleasant. While he was used to the whispered hissing and musings in the back of his mind on a normal basis, the hats voice in his head was unwelcome you and was like a loudly ringing echo as it bounced from side to side. He clenched his teeth tightly and closed his eyes as soft laughter could be heard in the back of his mind even through the hats old crackling voice. "Hmm. Slightly difficult one you are, eh?"

The hats voice trailed off in a hum and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling of something moving snake like through his mind. He gripped the edges of the stool so tightly that his knuckles started to turn white and his fingers ached.

"You have plenty of innate talent, Harry Potter. A very… complex mind…. and sly, so very sly." The hat trailed off again and continued again in a tone quite amused, "And a rather large thirst for knowledge and…. ah there it is…." Harry could hear the smirk in the hats voice and only half paid attention to the way it shifted around on his head as it rattled out quite a loud laugh. "Oh, hearty ambition and, dare I say it, a drive for greatness. You will go quite far in this world, Harry Potter….. and friend. There's only one option for you, for sure," With another loud laugh that seemed just a bit unhinged the brim of the hat opened up over Harry's head and, through titters and mad giggles the hat was finally able to shout out "SLYTHERIN."

Harry plucked the hat off of his own head and held it in front of his face even as it continued to cackle and gasp and he slid from the stool with a raised brow though otherwise a blank expression as he offered the mad hat to McGonagall who was standing stock still as if struck by lightning, her mouth slightly agape and eyes coin-round. Harry simply put the hat back down on the stool… still laughing… and made his way to the silent Slytherin table through an equally silent Great Hall.

And through it all, the familiar voice in the back of his mind was snickering as well.

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 **Hope everyone liked it! Review. I love you.**


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